


Hey Jealous Lover Chs.15 and 16 The End

by kinfic2



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Jealous Brian, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 22:36:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1758673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinfic2/pseuds/kinfic2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Trust instinct to the end, even though you can give no reason.” RW Emerson<br/>Takes place after Ep.208 and before Ep.217</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hey Jealous Lover Chs.15 and 16 The End

_“It's the eye of the tiger, it's the cream of the fight_ _risin' up to the challenge of our rival_  
_And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night_  
                                                             _And he's watchin' us all in the eye of the tiger.” ©Sullivan/Peterik_  
  
They strode into Babylon not touching. If their outward demeanor were any indication, they could have been total strangers. Yet an unmistakable undercurrent rippled through the club when they arrived, accompanied by the sly looks and whispered asides reserved for super couples—envied for their luck and jealous because of it.  
  
Even though he had his shares of admirers, Justin had no illusions about the reason or the source. The stares of sharp-eyed critics and fawning sycophants were because of his companion. One glimpse at the incredibly gorgeous man next to him was all the evidence necessary to corroborate that his inclusion in the wave rode on his coattails. And he didn’t mind one bit. He threw a sidelong glance as Brian strode in with the confidence of someone who not only had himself under control, but who also had the ability to control others. And he unconsciously aligned his gait to match the swagger.  
  
The emotional rollercoaster of the past twenty-four hours started to take its toll. On edge from the adrenaline pumping into his system, his glance morphed into a glare _._ He hated Brian for denying him, hated him for making him wait. But that aggravation couldn't keep his heart from thumping and his breath from hitching.

                                                                  _“I want you. I want you so bad, it’s driving me mad.”_ _©Lennon/McCartney_                                                                                                                                                                               
Brian's gaze darted around the room and in one quick sweep, took note of every gyrating body in his sight. With an enigmatic smile that could mean everything or nothing, he sidled up to the bar, arm nonchalantly draped around Justin’s shoulder, and ordered a double Beam and a beer. They drank in charged silence as he returned Justin's heated gaze with a frank appreciation of his snug-fitting azure t-shirt and freshly shampooed tendrils at his nape.   
  
They continued their visual sparring until Justin’s edginess crashed through him like waves on a shore. Under normal circumstances, he would have been amused. Not tonight. He slammed back the rest of his drink and grabbed his wrist, the pulse under his fingertips beating a primitive rhythm on an unseen drum.  
  
Thrown off balance, Justin looked up, startled by the sudden movement. A crimson flush crept over his face at the darkness under the half-shuttered lids.  
  
“Let’s dance.”  
  
The breathy words tickled his lobe and puckered his flesh with anticipatory goosebumps. A stealthy finger in his waistband coaxed him onto the dance floor. Hypnotized by the suggestive sizzle, he could only follow his lead. Their familiar danse à deux had begun.  
                                                                 
                                                                                                       * * * *

Their sparks triggered a magnetic attraction too powerful to resist. Brian pulled Justin closer and laced his arms around his neck. With angled foreheads resting comfortably against each other, he breathed him in.  
  
_He smells of soap and looks like sunshine. He reminds me of what I’ve lost or what I never had—and what I’m not. Sometimes I want him just for that more than anything else._  
  
He could never get enough of him. One of the puzzles he had yet to solve, the bizarrely voracious appetite nibbled at his belief that he didn't need or want anyone in his life.  If one person could convince him otherwise, it was this blond. He doubted Justin had any idea. Of course he didn’t. Why would he? He never told him.   
  
They radiated a primal sexual energy that had everyone gnashing their teeth. While his original intent had been to simply feather a kiss, the plump lips were too irresistable. He invaded the tempting mouth and fucked it hungrily with his tongue.When the need for air became a necessity, he pulled away, panting. In the middle of a lengthy inhale, a subconscious tickle skated across his skin, a reaction to the presence of something or someone. On high alert, he scoped the cavernous space like a hunter searching for prey.  
  
He never believed in luck or circumstance—although a certain meeting under a lamppost did give him pause on more than one occasion—and questioned the validity of coincidence. He regarded such occurrences as more probability and mathematics than random throws of the dice, convinced that the law of averages would prove itself in the end.  
  
**Everyone thinks when divine interception intercedes, it will be a life-changing experience of epic proportions. But sometimes it occurs in the most inconsequential of moments. It's up to us to sift through the chaos and decipher its meaning.**

Now? Providence or whatever the fuck it was, decided to intervene in his favor and guide his eye to the bar. Engaged in a tête-à-tête with a modelesque stunner, a seductively posed blond threw his head back in flirtatious laughter, his ringlets dancing in a beam of neon.  
  
In contrast to the suffocating tightness at seeing his latest migraine, Brian's excitement spiraled. He crowed in silent jubilation. Tonight he had what he liked, an edge, one he would use to maximum and admittedly, pleasurable effect during this chance encounter.  
  
“Brian....” The plea in the strangled voice called him back.  
  
_He knows. He knows I’m not completely with him, that I’m distracted._  
  
He drew Justin against him with a harsh jerk and pressed their bodies together. One hand slipped under his gauzy shirt to torture an already hard nub while the other roamed unfettered over his ass. His index finger slid up and down the crack. Each pass more insistent than the last, he cursed the fabric barrier that denied him entrance.  
  
But even the intoxicating man in his arms wasn't enough to stop him from seeking out the denim eyes. He couldn't help himself. Childishly malevolent, he never wavered from his target as he subtly shifted his position for a more direct view of the bar and block Justin's line of sight.  
  
In between lazy sips of beer, Adam lazily scanned the human sea. He blinked in disbelief when he caught the icy stare, or more accurately, when the icy stare caught him. Chilled by the unexpected hand of fate, he gave an involuntary shudder.  
  
“Hey, you okay?”    
  
The concern of his sleekly toned friend filtered through his thoughts. He nodded and answered in a clipped voice, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” Unable to turn away from the spectacle garnering the buzz and generating the heat, he berated himself for allowing Brian to bait him.  
  
In deliberate provocation, Brian bent his knees to align his groin with Justin’s. With an arrogant smirk, he ground against him to the incessant beat of the music. Justin called it dancing cock-to-cock, having renamed the classic song “Dancing Cheek to Cheek” with gales of laughter and off-key warbles during a foolish attempt to match shots with him one night.  
  
They put on a show for all of Babylon, wriggling and tongue fucking with a sexuality so blatant that people were taking bets who would come first. A penetrating glare held Adam captive, making him watch what he was doing, what he could only dream of doing, what he would never do. Even worse? Making him envision what was to come. Fueled by the moment's high and Justin's wanton moans, Brian's dick strained against his jeans. If he didn’t exert an enormous amount of self-control, he’d wind up fucking him on the dance floor. Arousal seeping through every pore, he had to end this now and get them back to the loft.  
  
Sensing victory in the resigned sag of Adam’s shoulders and his defeated expression, a miniscule grin of triumph crossed his face.  
  
_Did you really think you had a chance against me? You have no idea who you're dealing with, no clue what I'm capable of! Did you honestly expect to get Justin? No fucking way!_  
  
He ignored the undefined something that whispered faint doubts and returned to what he was born to do—kiss Justin.

                                                                                                    * * * *  
  
Adam drained his beer in one long swallow without tasting it. Blood hammering in his temples, he thumped his glass on the bar. “I’m out of here!” He stalked to the exit, anxious to put as much distance between himself and the couple on the dance floor as possible.  
  
When the first blast of night air whipped across his face, he shrank back as if physically struck and rested against the brick wall to catch his breath. Curse after curse spewed from his mouth in a continuous mist as hot clashed with cold.  
  
_The great Brian Kinney trumps all again! Cunning bastard thinks he’s better than everyone else!_  
  
Shaken more than he wanted to admit, he had an ominous feeling he wasn't going to succeed with Justin. It was a bitter pill to swallow. He thought he might have had a chance, albeit a small one, to get through to him, but after tonight....  As long as the great magician performed his unique magic, Justin would never break the spell.  
  
He swallowed repeatedly to get rid of the lump in his throat, then pushed away from the building. His collar turned up against the biting wind, he shoved his hands in his pockets and trudged the short distance toward his car. He wondered what it would take or how long it would be before Justin opened his eyes.

                                                                                                    * * * *

When Brian came up for air, Adam was gone. Buoyed by the euphoria of his fait accompli, he searched the glassy blue eyes. “Do you want me to fuck you?” His mouth grazed Justin's ear to be heard over the din. “Do you want me to ram my cock in your ass and pound you into the mattress? Hold you down and do whatever I want?”  
  
The licentious puffs shot an SOS to Justin's groin. “I....”   
  
“You haven’t answered.”  
  
On the verge of exploding, he clamped down on Brian's arm and tried to drag him to the door. “Let’s go. I want to go!”   
  
“Not so fast, Sunshine.” Brian stood firm.  
  
Justin whirled around in horny impatience. “Brian, what the fuck are you doing?” His sweaty palm tugged at a clump of hair. “I want to leave. I want to leave and go to the loft. I want to go to the loft and fucking fuck! What don’t you fucking understand?”  
  
Brian stifled a grin. The frenzied diatribe sounded like an x-rated learn-to-read book, and he half-expected him to stomp his foot in a tantrum. “I want an answer.”  
  
“An answer to what?” Justin blew out an exasperated breath, his blond fringe fluttering in its wake. He wanted to run, but the smoldering eyes held him in place. He also wanted to fuck, but the bastard wasn’t letting him do that either. Shifting from one foot to the other to give his aching penis relief, he searched the throng of writhing dancers. If Brian wanted to play his stupid game, he'd find someone else to—  
  
“Stop moving and look at me.”  
  
His head jerked up at the deadly calm command, every nerve standing at attention.  
  
In the glint of rotating strobes, hazel became the new gold as sparkled flecks obliterated the brown with their intent. No matter how badly he wanted him, Brian wanted to hear him ask for it, desperate for his desire to somehow validate that he deserved him. Soft as silk, he repeated, “Do you want me to fuck you, shove my cock in your tight little hole?” He grasped his flushed face in his palms. “Last chance. Tell me. Tell me what you want.”   
  
Inflamed by the husky rumble and its intimate promise of what was to come, Justin unraveled. He squeezed his eyes shut and only opened them after willing his brain to mouth coordination not to fail. His vocal chords mired in carnal quicksand, he was too afraid to pause, terrified he wouldn't be able to continue. He forced the words out with a whoosh. “I, I want.... God! I need you to, need your.... Shit! I can't....” He couldn't do this. He needed him too much, needed his cock too much, and needed Brian to prove that he needed him too much. He choked back a sob. “Please!”  
  
Brian sighed when he didn’t get an answer and cupped his chin. “Let’s go home.”  
                            
                                                                                                    * * * *  
  
Lying on the bed beneath him, being pinned by him. It was what he was born to do. He blazed with a fire shrewdly instigated and stoked by Brian Kinney. Sensation after sweet sensation rippled through his body as he greedily inhaled his cologne and musky scent like air. When muscular legs insinuated themselves between his thighs, he sucked in a breath. And let it out with a hiss when blunt flesh prodded his ass.  
  
“Is this what you want?” Brian teased.  
  
He jerked his hips to push closer. “Just fucking do it!”  
  
With cries of Fuck me! Fuck me! in his ears, Brian's shaky hands rolled on a condom and hurriedly greased it with lube. Relying on every bit of willpower he possessed, he tried to make the moment last. But a splayed and naked Justin gutted his discipline. There were others of course, many others, and there would _be_ others. But no one ever came close to this. He was sure no one ever would. Edging in ever so slightly, he breached the first ring of muscle with a grunt of satisfaction and began a determined slide.    
  
Justin let out a gasp at the initial stretch, swearing he could feel the blood pulse in Brian's cock, hot and hard, as he inched into the tight channel. His throat like sandpaper, he rasped, “Brian—”  
  
Balls deep, Brian held himself still, supporting his weight on his arms. “Give me a minute.” For one exquisite moment, they stared into each other's soul—and two became one with a wordless exchange of thought and emotion.   
  
Certain he would burn to a crisp from the electricity crackling under his skin, Justin clasped his arms around Brian's neck and thumped his heel on his lower back. Desperation tinged his voice. “Move!”  
  
Brian did just that, setting an easy rhythm, never too far, never too fast. But Justin's nonsensical mutterings and erotic whimpers rapidly transformed him from an expert to an amateur in seconds. His pace quickened, his thrusts more erratic as they deepened.He controlled Justin. His use of him devastatingly thorough, he hammered relentless shards of pleasure until he wilted and freely surrendered to the barrage. He claimed him with one final push. The barriers broke, the floodgates opened and they came together in a coalescence of body and soul.  
  
Reeling from the force of his orgasm, he went limp. His heart thundered in a cascade of endless beats, and when the kaleidoscope of white behind his eyes subsided, he slowed his breathing with wordless snatches of air. His body slick with perspiration, a single bead of sweat trickled from his brow.  
  
When the liquid landed on his upper lip, Justin lapped up the drop like an eager kitten. In the neverland between sleep and awake, he gave a contented sigh. “I could stay here forever.”  
  
He didn’t feel a hand feather the damp hair from his forehead, didn’t hear a voice rustle against his ear, “So could I.”

                                                                                                          * * * *  
  
The evening’s lusty haze couldn't quell Brian's insidious niggles. He couldn’t procrastinate any longer. The fork in the proverbial road had been reached.   
  
                          **“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both and be one traveler, long I stood.”** _R.Frost_  
  
With a heavy sigh, he untangled himself from Justin’s sleeping form and padded to the kitchen for a bottle of water. He emptied it in a few gulps and waited, hoping the clear liquid could infuse him with some of its clarity. It didn't work.   
  
He scrubbed his hands over his face, ttrudged to the computer, and logged into his email. In between furtive glances at the sleeping blond in his bed, he stared at the information his enormous amount of money had purchased. Seemingly random facts and figures about one person were all connected in a flowchart like a jigsaw puzzle. But the final piece was missing—his answer whether or not to put a devious plan in motion that would have dire consequences. His furrowed brow and grim lips reflected his turmoil. He wasn’t used to uncertainty, to second-guessing himself. It wasn’t his style. But Justin Taylor had succeeded where others had failed, complicating his life and flummoxing what he thought he knew about himself, who he thought he was.   
  
As various scenarios flitted through his brain, he discarded one course of action after another. Any choice could have him paying a price he wasn’t prepared to pay. He sagged back in his chair, wrestling with his emotions—and his conscience.  
  
And against all odds, out of this maze of gloom and doom, a faint impression started took shape, emerging like a hesitant worm poking its head out after a hard rain. He didn’t understand it. It was just a feeling after all but one he’d learned to trust. These hunches weren’t infallible, but they had pulled him from the edge more than once to keep him from straying too far from himself. After a brief hesitation, he made up his mind. He typed his answer and press send. Time was his judge and jury now. Only time would tell if he'd live to regret it.  
  
**“Then suddenly he felt a quickening in him. For in a swift radiance of illumination, he saw a glimpse of human struggle and of valor. But for a moment only. For in him he felt a warning. He was suspended between radiance and darkness.”** _Carson McCullaugh_  
  
Brian's POV:

It's amazing the effect one person can have on another in a short period. I’ve always been about today, not tomorrow. Don’t get me wrong, I still am. But now, instead of black and white, I’m muted with shades of gray.  
  
I never thought I deserved Justin. In fact _,_ I know I didn’t deserve him. I still don't. But I like to think I did something at least once in my fucked up life to earn the privilege of being with him.  
  
I don’t know what the future holds for us or even if we'll have one together. But if we do, it can't be built on deceit. I’m tempted to tell him everything and how close I came to.... Maybe someday, if we ever get to someday, I will. Maybe he’d be okay with it. If not? I’d deserve whatever he dished out.  
  
Adam was only the first. There'll be others. I can't pull strings and spend a shitload of money behind the scenes to make them all conveniently disappear out of his life because I feel threa— or afr— I'm not the fucking Wizard of Oz. Besides, he's so fucking hot, I'd have to send half the gay population out of the Pitts, which would diminish my pickings as well. And then I'd wind up broke. And that is definitely not happening!  
  
I didn't handle this well. But I finally figured out it's not about jealousy. It's about trust. Both are foreign concepts to me. I have no experience with either, never had use for them. And like the cause himself, they baffle me.  
  
I can't change any of it. This isn't a movie where you can reshoot a scene or a book where you can rewrite a chapter. This is real life, my life. I don't get any do-overs. I have to live with my decisions. Any blame or guilt for what I've done or haven't done, said or didn't say rests squarely on my shoulders. I may not like it, but I can live with it. I really can. At least, I think I can.  
  
**Each man is the keeper of his own destiny and must live and die by his own conscience.**  
  
                                                THE END ****

                                                                                              **Chapter 16 EPILOGUE**

 

A few days later:

Days after the Adam debacle, they continue to gingerly tread on egg shells, still not totally comfortable around each other, even with multiple instances of mind-blowing sex. When the alarm shrilly interrupts their sleep on Friday morning, his arm blindly gropes for the clock. He wants nothing more than to sweep it off the bedside table and send it flying across the room.

No sooner does he silence the offender, than a clear-eyed Justin casually throws out, “So, what are the plans for tonight?”

 _“What_? How the fuck do I know?” His eyes aren’t even open, let alone his brain.

“Plans—for—tonight. Anything definite?” Justin repeats, accentuating each phrase to penetrate Brian’s morning fog.

“What part of ‘how the fuck do I know’ don’t you understand?” _Fuck!_ It’s too early to talk, too early to think, let alone figure who’s on his dance card for the evening social.

“No need to get huffy, Brian.”

 _Shit!_ He doesn’t have to look at the angelic face to see the ‘I lost my puppy’ look. He knows it’s there. What worries him is that the woe-is-me-how-do-I-put-up-with-you patronizing tone is there also. Justin should patent it. He’d make millions from guilt money.

“I haven’t had my morning coffee and fuck yet, not necessarily in that order by the way, and you’re asking me about tonight?” He sighs and runs a hand through his bedhead hair.

Justin thinks the gesture makes him look adorable but, of course, doesn’t say it out loud, unless he wants to get thrown out of the loft on his ass, which he doesn’t. The blue eyes twinkle devilishly. “The coffee’s ready and waiting in the kitchen for you to place your luscious lips on its cup and swallow, Oh Great One. And _my_ luscious lips are waiting for—” peeking under the covers with a Kinneyesque smirk, “something else that’s ready and waiting.”

He likes how observant Justin is and decides there’s no harm in humoring the lad. He sighs again, deeper this time and wonders why he seems to be sighing so much lately.

“Nothing special’s planned for the evening, Sunshine, other than fucking you numerous times until you beg me to stop.” When the ivory face lights up, he inexplicably gets an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

“Ok, then we’re going out! See, I—” the obscenely cheerful for-this-hour-of-the-morning blond declares emphatically and stops.

An anxious snicker escapes Brian's lips, its humor masking the truth. The pause is cause for concern. He raises a quizzical eyebrow to hurry Justin’s brain-to-mouth coordination. His wish is granted. 

“I have a proposition for you.”

The saying be careful what you wish for flashes through his mind. He groans, fully aware the proposition could mean anything from infinity to beyond. But he knows from experience that, in Justin-speak, it usually means one of two things. Either _I’ve been thinking about it, and I think I’m finally ready to let you do what you said you wanted to do to me_ —highly improbable, but his cock certainly likes that choice, or _I’m going to tell you something you’re not going to like, but I’ll wheel and deal so that you’ll eventually agree to it_ —highly probable and his cock definitely doesn’t like that one. He decides he wants to throttle him.

“What is it?” he asks with a wary squint. He’s still tired and not in the mood to go twelve rounds with Mr.1500 SAT. He often muses that he should keep the Wicked Muncher Lawyer of the West on a standby retainer during times like these to make sure he doesn’t say or do anything incriminating, or worse, agree to something that could bite him in the ass in the future, figuratively of course. Literally would be an entirely different matter for consideration.

“The thing is,” Justin says smugly, poking at his chest with a sharp and painful index finger, “I’ve come to the conclusion that you are absolutely and positively jealous!”

Son of a bitch, if that finger doesn’t hurt! Wait! He’s come to _what?_  “I am not!”

“Don’t make me lecture you, Brian!” Another poke at his chest.

He gives Justin an affronted look and rubs his chest in mock pain, wondering how someone with a butter-melts-in-my-mouth look has fingers and toes that should seriously be registered as deadly weapons. “Isn’t that what you do all the fucking time, Mr. Walking Public Service Announcement? And why the fuck are you smirking at me like... _me_?”

“Because you _are_ jealous! And _I’m_ going to help you get over it! Phase one commences tonight!” Justin declares with conviction. “I’ve decided it’s not only in _your_ best interest but mine as well, to help you feel more secure, at least about me. See, most narcissists have deep feelings of insecurities, although they hide them very well. I mean, look at you!” He raises a knowing hand to emphasize the point. “So rather than exacerbate an already complicated situation, I’m going to be pro-active to get the self-destructive idea out of your head that whenever a good-looking guy pays attention to me, I automatically think of leaving. _More_ importantly, to make you unequivocally understand that I’m not going anywhere.” Winded from his lengthy commentary, he inhales deeply for a much needed breath.

He can’t help but stare at Justin. It’s as if there’s a fucking dictionary in his head, one that has a time limit before the blond implodes or he kills him.

He also feels a little ashamed, a little naked, and maybe a little uncomfortable. Because maybe Justin's a little right. But he scoffs, “You’re fucking insane!” and hurries out of bed because the blue-eyed, crazy evangelist look is about to surface and it always creeps him out.

“I’m not getting the warm fuzzies from you, Brian,” Justin chides. “Now listen to me because it’s obvious you don’t understand or _want_ to understand.”

Here comes the wheeling and dealing part _and_ the crazy-eyed evangelist look.

“I _get_ that you get, um, jea—” Justin rushes to rephrase the word when he sees a dark eyebrow arch. “That you get ‘concerned’ when you see me with someone else. Totally different, by the way, from how _I_ feel when I see _you_ with someone else because I’m pretty sure that—well, never mind.” His eyes glaze over before he gives a quick shake of his head and continues. “Anyway, my inner self tells me that you don’t want to be Brian the Terrible to every guy who wants to dance or study with me, or even fuck me. It’s telling me that deep down, you really _want_ to feel secure, a direct contradiction to your ‘you know where the door is’ refrain, which is really getting old now, don’t you think? Unlike you, of course,” he hastens to add. “So my job is to make yousee that when I do those things, I’m not doing them because I’m unhappy or to make you jea... concerned. I’m doing them because I’m gay. It’s what I do. It’s who I am. Just like you’ve always told me. You really should be very proud, Brian!” His smile is blinding, as if he just found the answer to the universe.

He looks at Justin as if he has two heads. “You’re fucking insane!”

“You’ve said that already.” Justin beams like a Cheshire cat.

“Whatever. What are you going to make me do?” He asks in a resigned voice.  

“I’m not making you _do_ anything, Brian,” Justin explains with infinite patience. “If you recall, when I said we were going out, _you_ didn’t object. I simply interpreted your silence as a non-verbal agreement.” Justin thinks for a moment before whispering with an eerie shit-eating grin, _“Trust me.”_

And fuck if that isn’t exactly what he does. It’s what he’s always done, what he, Brian Kinney, always will do.

 

                                                                                                                   ~ ** _FINI~_**

 

 

                                                                                               


End file.
